


Pitiful

by whitedandelions



Series: Big Juicy Knives [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Extremely Dubious Consent, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Parseltongue Kink, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitedandelions/pseuds/whitedandelions
Summary: “Beg,” hisses Voldemort.  “If you want to live past tonight, you will beg for my help…”Harry never thought he would be here, on his knees, begging for Voldemort to complete the bond that their matching Marks create.  But the only other option is death, and without him, the Light will never stand a chance.





	Pitiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malacrux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malacrux/gifts).



> This story was betaed by Eveiss.  
> I …would like to give my heart to Eveiss, who suffered under my 60 ellipses in 5k words and deleted 90% of them. Without her, this story would be just a giant … and…I would like to apologize to my lovely Eveiss. I will write you that #SluttyVoldemort2k17
> 
> This is also a belated gift to Chelle, because I got sick on the week of her birthday and never wrote her anything. I also never write Harrymort, and I know how you love it haha! So this is basically a dark soulmate AU that I really hope you enjoy. Love you lots!

 

 

Harry’s Mark _burned_.

Even applying cooling charms didn’t help, making it hard for Harry to concentrate on anything else but the pain.

Harry had felt pain before, he’d known it intimately his whole life, but this was something new. This was something he never thought he would feel.

It was hours after his seventeenth birthday. It felt like a lifetime ago. The party at the Burrow had been filled with laughter, made extra special to send the three of them off. There wasn’t going to be any fun to be had out on the run after all, and the excitement of receiving his Mark that day only added to the joy of it all.

Ginny had pulled him aside to kiss him and Harry had been sure his Mark would be hers.

The Mark arrived in the middle of the night, a second before the clock struck midnight. Ron had already gone to bed to give him privacy. Harry had sat in front of the mirror with his shirt off so he could see the Mark as soon as it arrived.

The moonlight had revealed his worst nightmare.

A snake came to life on his chest as he had watched, hissing once at him and then settling down into the customary symbol.

He had choked, his heart stopping in pure horror as he realized what he was looking at.

The Dark Mark stared back at him.

A lightning bolt marred the skull’s white forehead, and he had known immediately what it meant. He had known then what true despair felt like.

He let himself grieve for an hour. He had sat, unable to catch his breath as he tried to find a solution, tried to figure _something_ out. If he didn’t have sex with Voldemort, he would die in three days, burned to death by his own Mark.

He couldn’t stay after realizing this; he had to get out. He couldn’t explain to Ron and Hermione what his Mark was – he couldn’t face the Weasleys the day after, knowing they would ask questions.

And Ginny had hoped it was her as well, and after everything that had happened with the diary, he couldn’t let her know. It would break her.

They hadn’t woken; he was quiet, save for his soft, panicked breaths, and he had gotten away before any of them could find him. It had been easy to sneak away to the floo; he had used it all these years ago, and this time, when he spoke, he made sure to enunciate.

He had more than enough galleons on him to get a room at the Leaky Cauldron; there were no questions asked this late at night and he only hoped that Voldemort couldn’t find him.

If he was in pain, then so was Voldemort.

The same Mark would have appeared. Voldemort would be even more desperate to find him.

If he could just stay hidden – if he could make sure Voldemort couldn’t find him for the next three days, then the both of them would die together.

_Neither could live as the other survives..._

The first line of the prophecy never felt more fitting.

That was how he was going to save them.

The Mark would give Voldemort a way to find him. Magic wanted the bond to be completed and it would do all in its power to ensure that it was.

But there were ways. If Harry could just hide under anti-apparition wards, he would be safe. The bond was easily circumvented by this; it always assumed that the ones marked wanted to be found, wanted to find their other half and combine their magic for the better.

But Harry didn’t want to be found.

He would rather die than complete the bond with Voldemort.

Of course, Voldemort still had his horcruxes. But the last time he died, it took him years to come back. And even then, he was only able to come back thanks to Harry’s blood. With Harry gone, that option would be closed to Voldemort.

And his death would bring time. Harry had no doubt in his mind that Hermione and Ron could find the horcruxes. Hermione was the brightest witch of their generation and Ron a master strategist… if not them, then who else?

His hand was shaking as he started to write a letter. Even bringing out the supplies had been hard, Hedwig’s death was still fresh on his mind. She had died for him.

At least when he died, it meant the others would be safe.

They wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for him; he couldn't take another death on his hands.

When he finished the letters, he realized he had been crying. He never could have asked for better friends and he only hoped they could finish the task he had started.

He would send them tomorrow.

For now, sleep was threatening to overtake him.

He had come to terms with his oncoming death and now the adrenaline was fading.

Even the burning from the Mark couldn’t keep him awake.

* * *

Harry was in pain when he woke.

The pain was almost unbearable, the searing of the Mark felt like he was burning alive.

But he had three days left, this shouldn’t –

His shirt was in pieces. The cold air was enough to bring him to shocking clarity in seconds; he was no longer in the pub.

Instead, he was in a clearing. He was nowhere near Diagon Alley anymore.

Had he been betrayed? Did someone recognize him last night when he checked in?

He was on his knees, and the cold air did nothing but make him shiver in its caress. He looked around, but there was no one there…no clue on how he got here, shirt in tatters and his Mark on full display.

The cold air did nothing to the Mark.

Even now, it still _burned_.

He could hear the hissing of parseltongue, the sounds barely loud enough to be heard, but the proximity to Harry meant he knew the speaker was close.

His other half was here.

Voldemort had found him.

He closed his eyes in defeat. The sounds of footsteps seemed to echo in the clearing and Harry shivered, and knew it was not because of the cold…

Long fingers jerked his chin upward.

“ _Open_ ,” hissed a voice, and Harry’s eyes flew open, commanded not by magic, but by fear.

Voldemort looked frightening above him. Harry’s had so many nightmares of him, that he half wished that this was one of them now.

But he knew it wasn’t; he was in too much pain to think otherwise.

“ _You are mine_ ,” said Voldemort, and Harry cried out when Voldemort used his other hand to press two fingers roughly to Harry’s Mark. The burning abated and cooled underneath his touch, and the snake hissed happily, writhing under Voldemort’s touch.

There was no question now. Harry’s Mark was Voldemort’s.

But this wasn’t – Voldemort’s Mark was also his… he could still fight. Voldemort was smirking at him now, his eyes dancing in delight over having him so helpless in front of him, but Voldemort _needed_ Harry, too. Without him, Voldemort would die.

“ _I am not the only one marked_ ,” he hissed, but instead of the dread he was expecting to see, Voldemort’s smirk only grew.

Voldemort stepped away from him, letting Harry’s head fall when he let go. He was dressed in a casual robe, and it was easy enough for him to shrug aside. He was pale and unblemished; there was no Mark on him.

Harry’s breath stuttered, and his heart seized in shock, he couldn’t muster up a single thought or word. This was unheard of; it wasn’t – Voldemort should have a matching Mark. They were bonded and –

The Horcruxes.

Voldemort had split his soul into seven. Without his soul, how could magic Mark him?

Voldemort licked his lips, and his eyes were cold as he stared down at Harry. He took Harry’s chin into his hand again, jerking it so Harry was staring straight up at him without a way to look away. “ _Your despair is enchanting,”_ said Voldemort, and the way he moved to thumb at Harry’s bottom lip made Harry shiver.

Voldemort was playing with him.

With his death, Voldemort’s win against the Light was almost guaranteed . There was no way they could muster up a rebellion, not with him dead.

And even _if_ Harry lived, Voldemort would have full control over him. The bond would never be satisfied without Voldemort’s Mark; Harry would be forced to beg Voldemort to fulfill his side of the bond as much as possible to abate the burning.

Even now, the Mark had started to burn once more; it was a stark reminder that Harry had no other options.

“ _Beg_ ,” hissed Voldemort. “ _If you want to live past tonight, you will beg for my help…”_

He wanted to fight.

But the burning of his Mark convinced him otherwise.

There was no fight left here. He would die no matter what he did.

As soon as the Mark claimed him, there had been no question of survival.

He bowed his head anyway.

If he could just live long enough to find one Horcrux - if he could at least avenge Dumbledore’s death and find the Locket.

“ _Please_ ,” he choked out, and this – this was enough to break him. Tears burned his eyes as he dipped his head even further down, unable to even stomach looking at Voldemort’s face.

Harry had no doubts that Voldemort would be smiling.

Magic froze him into place. Wandless magic, done without a single incantation. Harry shivered in its grasp, the despair threatening to swallow him whole as he realized just how powerful Voldemort was.

He wondered why he had thought they could ever fight him.

Voldemort jerked his head up, so he was once again forced to look into his other half’s eyes.

He had dreamed of his soulmate for so long; Harry had hoped it was Ginny, had hoped it was Cho, had hoped it would be someone who would love him for all he was.

But there was no warmth in Voldemort’s eyes.

As he watched, Voldemort’s lips curled up into a cruel smile. He was enjoying this, there was no doubt. Even as Harry watched in breathless horror, Voldemort took his time. He trailed his hand down Harry’s face, and then back up again to brush away his fringe to reveal the scar. His first mark from Voldemort.

Voldemort traced it slowly, enjoying the way Harry flinched under his touch.

When Voldemort finally drew away, Harry was shaking in fear.

He had never lain with someone, desperate to keep it for his other half. Now he wished he had.

He didn’t even know what it would entail; what Voldemort had in store for him...

Because Voldemort’s smile was bordering on cruel now, and the way he was looking down at Harry made his delight all too transparent.

After all, there was no reason to hide it.

Harry was no threat to him anymore.

“Such pretty lips,” spoke Voldemort, almost as if in a trance. He was now caressing them, ignoring the way Harry was glaring at him for doing so. “And such fire in those eyes…only asking to be put out.”

Harry closed his eyes, unwilling to let Voldemort have even more fuel to taunt him with. It was cruel, but Harry had never expected otherwise.

A long moment passed, and Harry shivered in the cold. Then there was something resting on his lips.

His eyes flew open, as he slowly realized what it was.

Voldemort’s cock rested against his lips. His face burned almost as badly as his Mark did as he realized what Voldemort wanted him to do.

Voldemort wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

He let out a shaky breath. He was a Gryffindor. He had courage. He was known for it; his whole House was. This was nothing.

Voldemort gave him a little smirk as if knowing exactly what he was thinking. Harry decided not to look up anymore.

Instead, he opened his lips slowly. Voldemort didn’t move, and Harry almost wished he had. Things would be easier if Voldemort decided to just take it in his hands, to do all the dirty work of fulfilling the bond…

But Voldemort didn’t seem inclined to do anything. It was up to Harry to do his share of the work.

Harry never imagined he would suck a cock. But here he was, with Voldemort’s cock in his mouth, and he had no clue what to do. He gave an experimental lick, and then started to bob his head slowly, hoping that this would be enough to fulfill the bond.

It seemed like hours passed as Harry continued to bob his head up and down. His face was aflame as he wondered just how long this usually took when Voldemort seemed to take pity on him.

A few more seconds passed, and then Voldemort was thrusting slowly. The shock was enough to keep him still and he kept his mouth open as Voldemort worked his cock in and out of his mouth. His jaw already ached from the unnatural position of keeping his mouth so wide, and he let out a small whimper as Voldemort forced it open even wider, shoving more of his cock in until it pressed to the very back of his throat.

He recoiled as much as he could while being held in place, but Voldemort didn’t move an inch back, only forward until Harry was choking on it.

He never realized how big Voldemort was until the moment; Voldemort’s cock filled out every part of his mouth and Harry could barely take it all in.

He couldn’t breathe and he frantically threw his hands up against Voldemort’s thighs in an attempt to get some air back.

Was he going to die like this?

Tears filled his eyes, and as they started to fall, he realized the futility of the situation. Humiliation made his cheeks burn and he couldn’t help the small sob he let out around Voldemort’s cock.

And then Voldemort was moving back until his cock popped out of Harry’s mouth. Harry gasped for air, his cheeks aflame and his breath heaving.

Voldemort didn’t seem inclined to wait though, and his cock was at Harry’s mouth again. “ _That’s it_ ,” hissed Voldemort, and the lust was easy to hear even in Parseltongue, “ _you look beautiful like this…_ ”

Voldemort seemed to be impossibly harder and Harry knew that the bastard was getting off on him being unable to defend himself.

But Harry still opened his mouth, because there was no way out of this.

He could feel the bond stirring.

Voldemort fucked his mouth for a good while longer, each time pressing the tip of his cock right at the end of Harry’s throat until Harry choked on it and then repeating the process. It was making his throat sore and his jaw ache, but Harry didn’t dare complain.

Until Voldemort placed his foot on Harry’s thigh, dangerously close to his own cock.

Harry stiffened in fear, and Voldemort aimed a cruel smirk down at him.

Harry realized what he wanted even without Voldemort’s words. The shame burned in him, but he knew it was imperative that he finish as well or else the bond will never be satisfied.

He knew Voldemort could see him. That Voldemort was watching intently, and that the moonlight was bright enough that Voldemort could see everything.

And yet, he was still hardening under his own touch.

Something about what was happening was arousing in itself, and even though it was Voldemort commanding it, even though he was working to fulfill a bond that would kill him otherwise…

Some part of him was enjoying it.

His own fingers felt electric and he let out a small cry as he wrapped his whole palm around it. The warmth was a blessing contrasting with the cold air and he started to move his hand, desperate to finish and get it over with.

But Voldemort had no intention of making it easy for him.

Because Voldemort was moving once again, this time fucking his mouth even faster.

He was sure to have bruised lips later, and his jaw felt like it would never stop aching.

But his hand still moved, and although he was ashamed, he knew he couldn’t lie to himself.

He was enjoying this. Pre-cum was already starting to gather at his cock and he knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

Tears were still falling down his cheeks at the humiliation of it all, but Voldemort didn’t slow down at all, his pace only increasing to near punishing.

Harry was now whimpering, his hand moving almost at a similar pace, and he knew it wouldn’t be long now.

And then Voldemort was drawing back. He wasn’t – he wasn’t smiling anymore, and then he was finishing.

Long streaks of cum painted Harry’s face. Harry didn’t even have time to close his eyes, but thankfully, none of it reached there.

No, Voldemort was aiming for something else.

The lightning bolt scar was covered completely by the white streaks of Voldemort’s cum.

That was enough.

Harry finished in his own hand, his tears falling faster as he realized what he had done.

The bond came into completion and just as abruptly the Mark stopped burning.

But Harry knew it wouldn’t before long before it burned once again.

Time seemed to stand still as Voldemort’s cum dried on his face.

Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting now. Was Voldemort going to kill him? Dangle hope of survival in front of his face until the very end?

Voldemort had already tucked himself away. He was staring down at Harry now, an amused little smirk on his face.

Harry flushed under the attention; he knew how he must look in Voldemort’s eyes and he didn’t – he didn’t want to be reminded of what just happened.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” hissed Voldemort, “ _and all mine_.”

At his words, Voldemort reached out and smeared the drying cum onto Harry’s face. Harry flinched back at the sensation, and Voldemort laughed.

A few long, tense moments passed, and then Voldemort drew his wand.

Before Harry could run or do anything, Voldemort stunned him.

* * *

When Harry woke, his face was clean.

And he was in a bed.

His awareness slowly came back to him and his eyes widened as he realized where he was.

The Burrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a multichapter, but I got suddenly very busy, so it'll be a while before I can visit again. The whole story is planned though, so hopefully I can get back to it after April.  
> Please let me know if you enjoyed in a comment or kudos, thank you!  
> \---  
> Follow me at whitepinkdandelions.tumblr.com please!  
> I'm slowly phasing out my smut account: wetdandelions on ao3, but if you want to read more smut of mine, please check it out :).


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